Deviant Influence
by katicus
Summary: Elena is a princess returning home after a disrupted quest. Reaver is the notorious business entrepreneur with a taste for deviance. She's in trouble and strangely Reaver is willing to help. But will he get more than he bargained for from the feisty girl?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey :) this story is set as if the queen and logan had another sister, who is the princess and who has just returned about a year or so after the crawler's attack and defeat. I tried my best and love to know what you guys think or even if you just show me you like it by adding a story alert or something. **

**Playing Fable 3, I just loved Reaver so much that I had to write something with him in, cuz he's such a great character!**

**Enjoy! **

Princess Elena panted heavily as another shrill gunshot forced her to leap back. Her shoulders pressed against the rough bark of the tree she was currently using as a shield as her eyes desperately searched for some form of protection. She had found herself in dire situations like this before, but never so underprepared. The bandits had attacked without warning as she was sleeping; sneaking up with surprisingly stealthy paces and managing to get close enough that, had it not been for the overpowering smell of ale and gunpowder invading her dream, Elena might have been finished. The princess of Albion finished by mere bandits? How shameful!

But she feared that outcome might actually occur as a bullet ripped into the side of the tree. Her sword and trusted pistol lay a few meters out of reach, forgotten in the sudden scramble after being so rudely awoken, and her dagger was buried in one of the bandit's necks, pinning them to another tree. Elena was always proud of her aim and strength, a trait she had no doubt inherited from her mother, the late Hero Queen.

Ignoring the painful pulsing in her head that foretold the beginnings of a headache, she pushed strands of wavy blonde hair out of her eyes with one hand as the other clawed at the tree trunk; worn nails breaking the pieces of bark off and praying to the Gods for something, _anything_, to get her out of this predicament.

"Don't hide, my pretty." A gravelly voice called, making her shudder "Why don't you come out and I'll show you the things I plan to do to that _lovely _body of yours?"

Crystal blue eyes widened and then narrowed as anger boiled in the pit of her stomach.

"Why would don't you come over here and show me, unless you're scared?"

Right after the scornful words left her mouth Elena regretted them. She had always been hot-tempered and often lost control of her words, but provoking armed bandits while she was practically helpless – where would that get her?

"Ooh," another chimed in "We've got ourselves a feisty one."

Heavy footfalls against crunching leaves told her that they had risen to her challenge. Dread drowned out the anger, and she raised her eyes to the night sky and whispered "Please, something help, please, _please_."

No sooner than after the last syllable had left her trembling lips, a horrific, ghastly roar that had even _her_ blood turning cold filled the air. Elena trembled at the sound and, although it terrified her, she slumped against the tree in relief as the bandits' panicked voices and footsteps began to hurriedly fade away. Risking a glance out, she peeked round the side of the tree to see one of the most disgusting yet intriguing sights her young eyes had ever been subjected to.

A huge furry creature with great, sharp claws and piercingly yellow eyes was towering over the suddenly frozen bandits. Its body was hunched over and breathing heavily, yet it still rose well above the men. There was an abrupt pause and then a pain-filled, chilling scream was cut off as blood splattered across the forest floor. Elena bit back a gasp and hurriedly pressed herself back against the tree trunk as if it would hide her from the terrifying beast and scene that she had just witnessed.

Balverines.

Maybe returning to Albion wasn't the best idea.

Two hours later, standing at the gates of the castle, with her clothes in tatters and blood streaked through her hair and across her aching, scratched skin, Elena told herself that returning to Albion had been _exactly _the wrong thing to do. If it had not been necessary due to her current fatal situation, she would have happily spent the remaining two years of her cut-short quest exploring.

After spending two years away, her nineteen year old body had matured well; she now bore more of a resemblance to her mother and sister than before, with a tall, lean figure, slim waist and long legs. Although she didn't have her sister's black hair and dark eyes, Elena possessed a similar beauty; wide blue eyes, a narrow, curved nose and plump lips complemented by high, flushed cheekbones. Her hair fell down to her lower back in knotted waves, a naturally dirty blonde colour that she guessed she had inherited from her father.

But right now, Elena didn't feel very beautiful – or even like royalty.

She had fought off the balverines, managing to attain her sword and single-handedly slashed and ripped her way through the beasts to escape. There had been many of them and the team she had left with on her quest two years ago now lay dead due to unfortunate yet unavoidable circumstances. She was tired and weary.

Yet staring up at the huge, dominant silhouette of Bowerstone castle, she felt the biggest urge to turn away and head back out into the wilderness. But, knowing that would be unwise in her condition, she regretfully traipsed her way towards the intimidating building.

The first rays of light were just hitting the turrets of the castle as Elena began her fatigued ascent to the front gates, but it did nothing to banish her dark mood. Even Arthur, the jolly guard whom she had always gotten on well with, didn't cheer her up as he announced her surprise arrival. She merely offered a strained smile, brushing some of the dried blood out of her hair and proceeded in. After closing the door behind her with a loud, resounding clang, only silence greeted her from the cold, grey walls.

Typical.

Elena felt more alone than ever.

"My _my_, hasn't a certain little princess matured _well_ since being away?" came an aristocratic, conceited voice which Elena knew all too well.

If the steady tap of a cane and tell-tale clicks of expensive shoes against the hard, stone floor wasn't enough, the smell of spice which engulfed her senses and pointed chin resting on her shoulder told her _exactly_ who it was.

"I must say," his breath was warm against the shell of her ear and she fought back a shudder at the close proximity; such things had not been experienced for a long time, "even with your clothes all ripped and blood dried in your hair, you look positively _ravishing_, my darling. Although, I do find that the state of your clothes pleases me more than they would normally."

She tilted her head to follow dark eyes down to where a particular scratch had exposed more of her chest than what was classed as decent. She merely pulled at the flimsy material, giving up as it proceeded to fall back exactly the way it had been before, and shrugged off the man looming over her, his demanding presence overwhelming.

Her ocean eyes locked onto gleaming dark ones as she turned round, deviancy and wickedness swimming in the chocolate depths. Flawlessly sculpted eyebrows rose patronisingly as the unforgettable smirk graced those coral lips. A straight nose and devilishly high cheek bones framed by silky dark tresses styled to perfection completed the devastatingly handsome face. A face which had, no doubt, graced many beds and broken many hearts over the endlessly long years. A large fur collar wound around the unblemished, smooth skin of his neck, leading down to a spotless brown waist coat where, below that, the legendary Dragonstomper gun hung from a holster; the metal as shiny and flawless as it had been the last time she had seen it.

Luckily Elena had never been on the receiving end of that gun. Neither had she been on the receiving end of the man who wielded it.

Reaver.

The notorious ex-pirate king turned business entrepreneur.

"Haven't changed a bit, Reaver." Elena said forcing the tiredness from her tone; to show weakness to this man would be a very dangerous move. "But, then again, you wouldn't, would you?"

A sadistic smile rewarded her. "Ooh, you definitely _have _grown up."

He began to circle round her, ever-present cane tapping against the floor. Elena tried to stand tall under his scrutiny but couldn't flatten the urge to at least wipe the blood off her face; being inspected by one so clean and pretentious made her feel inferior. Her cheeks reddened slightly – an occurrence so rare over the past months that the heat almost felt foreign against her creamy skin.

"I find that blush coating your cheeks so _adorable_." She felt a playful nip at her ear lobe and her breathing hitched. She had never been so openly exposed to his seductive side before.

"And I see that one lucky person has _deflowered _my Rose."

If the blush had felt warm against her cheeks before, it now felt like an open flame. It wasn't just the fact that nobody else called her by her middle name, but the meaning behind his words and how he even _knew _that!

"Well...I..." she spluttered, feeling the heat travel across her neck, "It was...um, I... Reaver!"

The man in question was standing right in front of her, smirking devilishly, eyes glinting with undisguised mirth and enjoyment at seeing her squirm. "Yes?"

Elena tried to look angry. "That, _Reaver_, is none of your business... And how did you know anyway?"

He smiled a sadistic, victorious smile that was reminiscent of the way a predator would attract its prey. "Well you don't live forever and not learn to notice certain things – especially if you take a vivid interest in such..._pleasurable activities _as I do."

Elena nearly trembled at the primal, fierce look that came into his eyes as he said that. She simply stood there, in her tattered clothes and with messy hair, blushing and inwardly panicking. What was Reaver trying to achieve here? She already knew about his dominant position and influence over Albion, _and_ his reputation; she'd heard the stories about his past escapades as a pirate and listened to him brag about his sexual conquests...was that what he was trying to do? Turn her into another conquest? It would certainly be one to remember; the princess of Albion, sister of the Queen, and renowned fighter falling at Reaver's feet... No.

Anger churned in her stomach. She was stronger than that...for the time being anyway...

Narrowing her eyes and squaring her shoulders, Elena stared defiantly up at Reaver who seemed slightly surprised by the sudden change in demeanour. "What do you want with me Reaver?" she demanded "I've just got back from a long and tiring quest if you cannot already see that. I want to go and have a bath, eat some hot soup and then go to bed to get a decent sleep for once."

When he offered no reply, simply running his eyes over her figure – but strangely not in a provocative way, face impassive and blank, unreadable, she scoffed and stomped past him, using the last of her energy to bash against his shoulder. He stumbled, catching himself on his cane, and she began her lonely ascent up the grand staircase...until he spoke.

"Hmm, yes. You are looking a bit _peaky_."

Although relatively harmless, his words caused her to stop dead. If _he _noticed then surely other people would too...? What if they found out? But, then again, most would just blame it on the wearisome, tedious journey home and battle against the balverines. However, _something _in Reaver's tone suggested that he would not be so quick to come to the same conclusion as others.

"My dear Rosie," she had been stuck in her own thoughts for so long that she hadn't noticed Reaver climb the steps after her, his breath was hot against her ear, "You didn't get into any _trouble _on this little quest of yours did you, hmm?"

Elena stayed stock still, blue eyes wide and lips parted, frozen in fear. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so loudly she wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it! She didn't want anyone else – even Reaver – to have to bear this burden. It was hers. Hers alone. She had gotten into this mess; she would deal with the consequences on her own.

"And what..." she had to clear her throat, the sudden dryness making it hard to speak, "What do _you _care if I did?"

He stepped around her so he was standing on the step above, leaning down on his cane to observe her through narrowed, speculative eyes. The heart tattoo that rested beneath his right eye scrunched up as he continued to stare at her with that intent, determined, yet undeniably curious gaze. Elena made sure to keep her features determinedly blank – thought she couldn't be sure that her immediate fear didn't show in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by another voice. A voice that was feminine, terribly familiar and so terribly powerful. It rang throughout the hall and Elena, instead of being glad to hear it, found that she wanted nothing more than to run and hide under her soft, warm bedcovers and sleep for a few days.

Queen Elliya.

The power the throne wielded had obviously influenced her in the years that Elena had been away. Her tall, willowy figure was shrouded in a long, midnight blue dress that puffed out magnificently on the sleeves and trailed along the carpeted floor. Although her features hadn't changed much, the brown eyes and hair still present, she had the look of a much older person; one who had seen and done too much in a lifetime. Where her voice used to be fairly quiet it rang out clearly across the hall, demanding to be heard.

"Reaver! What are you still doing here?"

Elena cast her eyes downwards as her own sister failed to even acknowledge her existence.

"The meeting was finished some time ago... Oh! Elena!"

She looked up at the mention of her name, meeting the brown eyes that gazed her way. But the softness that they once held was gone now, replaced by the hardened look that no doubt came from being the ruler of Albion. The smile looked too forced, as if it had been repeated many times and she had simply got used to wearing it.

"Hello." Elena said simply, hearing Reaver scoff quietly at her pathetic entrance.

"How good to see you! You're looking a bit worse for wear aren't you? We'll have to get you cleaned up. And get you some new clothes...is that _blood _in your hair?"

All these questions and statements came so fast, Elena barely had time to make sense of them all. But she noticed that not one of the questions had been about her quest.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper, clearing her throat again, "There were some balverines in the woods."

The Queens' eyes widened. "And you killed them all by yourself? Well done, Elena!"

Elena frowned at the patronising, childish tone and heard Reaver scoff again beside her. "Yes, well, it's not like I'm a child anymore is it?"

The Queen smiled again and Elena saw a glimmer of her old sister shining through. "Certainly not."

"And my quest went fine, thanks for asking."

She seemed to miss the sarcasm, glancing towards a door on her left and answered distractedly "Oh did it? Good, good. Anyway, I will come and talk to you later and you can tell me all about your adventures – but I've got some very important business to attend to."

Elena plastered a smile on her face when the Queen looked back. "Certainly, go ahead." She forced a strained smile and gestured towards the door.

The Queen offered one more distracted smile before dramatically sweeping through the door, dress dragging on the floor, where it shut behind her with a resounding clang.

Elena sighed. She hadn't even remembered that her quest was meant to be four years and not only two. Suddenly the hunger and tiredness and lack of energy seemed to overwhelm her. She felt weak, like she was trapped in an old woman's body.

Reaver's gloved hand came to rest on her shoulder. She didn't even have to energy or will to push it off.

"_Poor _little Rosie." He remarked.

Elena huffed.

Poor little Rosie indeed.

**Thanks for reading! **

**So what did you think? Any mistakes? Ways I can improve ect?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi :) thaks to the people who kindly reviewed, nice to know that people actually enjoy my story and aren't just reading the first line and thinking "this is crap" and to those who added story alerts ect. **

**More Reaver in this one, especially towards the end and it's all heating up from here! Enjoy!  
**

_More blood splattered across Elena's face as she plunged her sword into the bandit's stomach, barely wincing as a horrible squelching noise and his cry of pain followed. Using her foot to pry his dying form off her weapon, she pulled out her pistol with her free hand and swung round to expertly shoot another bandit who had been raising his weapon in the chest._

"_Hey! That was my mate you just killed!" came an outraged cry to her left and Elena whipped her head round to see a gun pointed in her direction._

_Heart pumping faster with adrenaline, she barely had time to dive out of the way as he pulled the trigger. A loud bang issued from the weapon and she heard the thud as the bullet slammed into a wall behind her. _

_Elena smirked. Now it was her turn._

_She lifted her gun up to face the bandit, aiming at his head and smiled victoriously as his body crumpled to the ground a second later._

"_Well at least you can join him now." She said dryly._

"_Good shot, princess!" a voice cried and Elena turned to face a soldier with flushed cheeks and a dirty, wrinkled uniform._

"_Bert, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Elena – not princess. We're not at the castle anymore."_

"_Sorry, princess. It's just habit, and I like seeing your stubborn little face." He grinned cheekily. _

_Bert was one of Elena's good friends, having helped to raise her since she was a small child as Walter had been busy with Elliya. He was like a second brother to her as Logan had always been preoccupied with ruling Albion and turning it into a dictatorship than being a good relative to her, until Elliya had taken over. Even then, he hadn't really bothered with her, choosing to spend most of his time sitting alone in the war room, mulling over plans. _

_She was about to reply but another war cry cut her off. Bert's expression turned to one of horror, the playfulness all forgotten. Elena spun round to see a skinny, unwashed man running towards her wielding a branch as if it were a deadly weapon. She would have laughed out loud at the situation had it not been for the wild, animalistic look in his eyes. Bushy, unkempt hair surrounded his face as another shout issued from behind yellowing teeth._

_Elena raised her pistol again._

"_No! Princess, don't!"_

_But the warning came too late. Her pistol fired... _

"Princess...Princess Elena?"

Elena turned away from the offending noise, burrowing deeper into the soft, thick covers of her bed. It had been too long since she had spent a night in such luxury – even sleeping in the bath tub would be better than the conditions she had to endure on her quest!

"Princess Elena, I really must insist that you get up now."

The posh voice broke through her doze once again, the impatient, high tone ringing in her ears and forcing her droopy eyelids open.

It was dark when she finally opened her eyes wide enough to see, blinking groggily through the daze that clouded her mind. Why would someone be waking her up when it was still evening? She rolled over, pulling the blankets with her to see a porky, old gentlemen standing by her bed and watching her with disdainful green eyes.

"Who..." she cleared her throat of sleep, "Who are you?"

The man looked offended, as if she had even _dared _to ask that question!

"I, your _majesty_," the title was pronounced with a contemptuous tone, "am Hobson. The Queen's _personal_ adviser."

Elena merely stared up at him with a blank gaze. "Right. Um, why are you waking me up at night? What time is it?"

Hobson's face turned down in a disappointed, exasperated look. "It is ten in the _morning_, princess. The _drapes_," he walked slowly over to some dark curtains, pulling them open in one sudden, harsh movement "are merely _closed_."

Hissing, Elena ignored his patronising tone – somewhat frightened by the similarity that it held to Reaver's – and covered her eyes against the offending sunlight bursting through the wide window. She didn't reply, once more burying her head into the soft pillows.

"A bath has been drawn for you and clothes selected. You need to be ready within half an hour as an audience with the Queen has been called and she would be most grateful if you could attend."

"Okay." Elena lifted her slim frame out of the bed as Hobson began to exit the room, pausing only to ask a question that had just occurred to her.

"Who has called the audience?"

Hobson turned round, a new glint shining in his eyes. "Reaver."

"Oh." _Great. _

**xxx**_  
_

Elena hurried into the throne room, slightly out of breath and with her hair still damp. She had found the hot bath with all its steamy tendrils and exotic smelling lotions a little _too _relaxing, falling back to sleep before Hobson had rudely awoken her by banging loudly on the door and demanding that she grace the throne room with her presence.

Ignoring the mutterings and angry stares from the nobles and grinning at the cheery, lopsided smiles of the villagers crowded behind the thin red barrier that separated royal blood from the common, Elena slowed her pace to an acceptable walk. She fiddled with the sleeves of the purple dress Hobson had left out for her; a delicate material that fell to her upper thigh – originally intended to be worn underneath a billowing skirt of the same colour that trailed to the floor. But Elena had taken one look at it and refused to put it on; she detested puffy, pristine clothing, feeling more comfortable in a pair of shorts.

Her face flushed slightly as she realised that may have not been the best decision to make when walking into a room half full of leering men – none worse than Reaver.

"A little late, aren't we princess?" his voice rang out through the hall, effortlessly catching attention – a trait he had no doubt perfected over the years.

Elena glanced up at him, propped up against his cane, usual top hat adorning his head and smirk once again gracing his face. She didn't neglect the fact that he had called her princess, not Rose or Rosie as he usually did. This intrigued her...he wanted to seem polite in front of the queen despite defying his true nature. The reason made her inwardly smile. Reaver _wanted _something.

Making sure her wet hair brushed against the shoulder of his flawless white coat, she offered him a sarcastic smile as she brushed past, saying quietly "Shut up, Reaver."

Then Elena smiled apologetically at her sister who was sat tall and proud of the throne, crown perched perfectly upon her neatly coiled hair – a startling contrast to Elena's. But Elliya merely smiled in return, leaning forwards to whisper "You must talk to me afterwards, we have much to discuss."

Feeling a pang of dread form in her stomach, Elena pushed down the nauseating feeling to nod determinedly. Disguising her emotions had become second nature to her over the past few weeks. Taking her seat beside the throne, Elena crossed one leg comfortably over the other, watching with a sly smile as Reaver's eyes followed the action.

"This meeting has been called today by Reaver. "A loud voice called from the other side of the throne and Elena felt a sudden echo of sadness, missing Walter. "Let it begin."

Reaver stepped forward, his stance one of obviously noble birth. "Your majesty, I am here today to present forth an _intrepid_ and, if I do say so _myself_, credible business proposal. Even though I have already presented this to you once before and you, forgive me for disagreeing with you on the matter, _regretfully_ turned it down, I am giving you the chance to accept again. As we all know, the orphanage is a place _not_ of great use anymore...there are not a lot of children around." He was referring to the crawler's attack which left a majority of the poor and defenceless dead, and people had rushed to adopt if their children had been killed. "It is a waste of resources, and I propose that we could use those resources and prime location for something much more..._pleasurable _and useful."

His eyes met Elena's, the brown colour startlingly bright, and she knew what was coming next.

"A brothel."

There was a mixed reaction from the audience; the villagers (men in particular) seemed joyous about the idea, showing more simple smiles and cheering, while the nobles acted outraged, pale noses turning up slightly at the notion. Elena scoffed; how hypocritical of them, Reaver had probably bedded a majority of them!

While the reactions were still taking place, Elena found her eyes flitting about the room in order to entertain herself and avoid Reaver's scorching gaze she could feel burning a hole in her cheek. She was pleasantly enjoying the rich red colours decorating the room and the intricate designs on the ceiling when her eyes passed over a shadow in the far corner.

She froze.

It felt as if a bucket of ice had been tipped over her; the blood in her very veins turning cold as she watched on, powerless to move her wide, blue eyes away, as two blood red eyes formed in the shadow, taking on the form of a long, thin figure. She felt the darkness crawling over her; grasping onto her legs and clawing its way up until it had a hold of her chest, making it suddenly hard to breath.

"_Don't think you can ignore this," _a voice so cold and uncaring that it could rival the crawler's whispered hauntingly, the meaning behind the words sending shivers across Elena's skin. "_We own you now. You belong to us!" _

Elena felt a slight anger burning away at the ice that had frozen over her body. Her eyes burned as she managed to summon a glare in the direction of the terrifying eyes, nodding slowly and numbly at the words to show she understood. Then, as soon as they had come, the eyes disappeared.

Elena felt a sudden heat rushing across her skin, so warm it was almost painful, and she took a shuddering breath. Her heart was pounding from fear of what just happened and fear of what was still to come. She blinked the forming tears from her eyes, shifting her position on the chair and casting her gaze around the room to see if anyone had noticed her mysterious behaviour. What she saw sent a pang of uncertainty through her stomach.

Reaver was staring intently in the direction from which she had seen the shadow. Elena gripped the handles of her chair as he slowly turned back round, fixing her with an impressed yet judging look. His eyebrows rose as if saying _care to explain_. She panicked; he couldn't have seen that could he? Nobody else could see them but her, she was certain of it...or she _had been _certain of it anyway.

"Elena?"

The imploring, slightly worried voice broke her heated staring contest with Reaver and Elena turned to see the brown eyes of her sister gazing at her.

"Yes?"

The Queen smiled. "What is your opinion on this proposal?"

She swallowed; the Queen was asking _her _opinion? Elena took a deep breath, eyes accidentally meeting Reaver's again and she stuttered out an answer. "I-I think, um, it's a good proposal. Reaver's right, it _is _a waste of resources which would be better used in something that the people will actually enjoy. And the money it will bring can help the treasury to recover."

Reaver's expression turned to one of smug and superiority at her words and the Queen leaned forward, whispering into Elena's ear. "Well done, I'll make a Queen of you yet."

**xxx**

It was sunny outside, the crisp breeze carrying with it the promise of spring and warmer weather once more as Elena walked briskly through the gardens. She walked until the flowers surrounded her on all sides' blues, yellows, reds and greens all blurring beautifully together to create an atmosphere of tranquillity and solitariness. The gardens had been the one part of Bowerstone castle that Elena had missed while being away; she loved the floral smell and colours generated by the rare and captivating plants that thrived there.

Elena stood stock still, reliving the moment from the throne room.

_We own you now._

A shudder escaped her clam facade as those words echoed in her ears. She knew the conditions, the requirements of what she had done and had accepted them a long time ago with no other option present apart from certain death. But it seemed that outcome was inevitable either way now.

"Neglecting the Queen's request, are we?" Reaver's smug voice asked and his hands suddenly appeared on her waist, grasping it tightly and pulling her back against a hard body.

She stumbled back into his hold, taken completely unawares, and let out a gasp at his forward behaviour.

"I don't blame you, Rosie. Talking is rather dull, especially when there are _better _things to be doing with time..." he trailed off suggestively, causing a light pink tinge to grace Elena's cheeks as she recalled their conversation yesterday.

That tinge turned into an all out blush as she felt lips lightly brushing against her neck.

"Reaver!" she protested faintly, struggling to get out of hid hold.

But his arms encircled her hips, trapping her own arms by her sides as he continued his exploration of her slender skin. She could feel the fur of his collar gently tickling her back as he pressed her closer, beginning to place kisses against her neck. Despite the fact that warning bells were ringing in her head, reminding her that this was _Reaver_, she let her head fall to the side, allowing him better access. She could feel him smirk as his nose started a trail leading up to her jaw then back down again, but she didn't care.

Elena needed this.

She needed it as a distraction from what happened and what was going to happen. Her mind clouded over as Reaver began to place open mouthed kisses on her skin, biting and tugging, sure to leave a mark but all she could do was gasp and tense slightly in his hold, relishing the heat he provided and welcoming the distraction.

"So" he mumbled against her skin "care to explain why you're making deals with the shadows?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in and when they did it sent a startling reminder to her head. She jerked out of his arms, her eyes shooting open, unaware of when they had even shut. Elena spun round to face him with an angry glare, her cheeks flushed. He simply stood there, smirking as if hadn't just been ravishing her neck with his _oh so _talented mouth.

"I fail to see how that is any of your business." Elena spat, angry for allowing herself to be manipulated.

"My dear Rosie," Reaver began stepping closer once again "Just a warning, the shadow court are cold, uncaring demons. They twist circumstances. It is wise not to get involved with them."

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, his eyes turned soft. The chocolate depths displaying so much emotion that Elena nearly drowned in the sorrow and regret that was swimming there. But then it passed, and the usual hard, flirtatious look returned, leaving her with a burning curiosity. How was Reaver involved with the shadow court? What had they done to him?

She swallowed, feeling suddenly out of place. "It's a bit late for that."

He laughed once, a harsh sound. "What have _you _gone and done, little Rosie?"

She bit her lip, reluctant to answer and wary of his change in demeanour. Reaver suddenly looked up and twisted his head round, eyes narrowing at something. "Well, never mind. I'm sure you can handle it and if you can't, well...I'll always be willing to _talk _and keep your mind off things."

Elena scoffed and was about to offer a scathing reply when his face was unexpectedly close to hers. She could see every feature; the flawless curve of his high cheekbones, the unblemished, coral lips that curved into a smirk at her star struck expression, the heart tattoo resting beneath his eye, and the flecks of black that swam in the enchanting brown of his eyes.

"But, for now, I'll leave you with this."

Before she could stop him, his lips were pressed against hers in a simple yet shocking kiss. The heat radiating from them was intense and Elena could only stand rigid with surprise as his soft lips moulded against hers. Her heart started hammering again so fast that she thought it might fly out of her chest and blood rushed to her cheeks.

Then it was over.

He pulled away, a satisfied smile playing around those lips. Elena blinked up at him with a confused gaze.

"What's your game Reaver?"

His eyes shone deviously. "My game? It's a pleasurable one."

Elena felt the words form in her mouth before she had a chance to think about it. "Really? Something I might be interested in playing?"

His eyebrows rose as he laughed. "You just keep surprising me today, Rosie. Think about what I said."

He began to stride off, cane tapping briskly against the ground.

"Which part?" she called after him.

He turned, offering her one last smirk. "All of it, darling. All of it."

Elena sighed. She knew she really shouldn't get involved with anything to do with Reaver considering her current predicament, but she couldn't help the slight fluttery feeling in her stomach and the sense of excitement that formed at the prospect. But it _was_ Reaver, the man who made no secret of his enjoyment in pleasure and she really didn't want to be just another girl in a long line of partners.

But, with what awaited her, why shouldn't she enjoy herself?

**Good? Bad? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, my internet does this thing where it decides to stop working every few days : dam annoying, especially when you got exams to revise for and google is unavaliable!**

**Anways, thanks to the reviewers, huge huge huge help in churning chapters out faster. But for over 200 hits I'm sure we can get a few more, otheriwse I might just go back to revising and, lets be honest, who wants to do that? :P haha!  
**

Reaver stood by the window of his study, the moonlight bathing half of his face in an eerie glow. He laughed out loud at the irony of it; like the moonlight was providing a visual representation of him. Half, the half bathed in light, was what he presented himself as each day – the demanding, notorious and relentless business man and lover extraordinaire. The other half, hidden in the shadows, was the side that he hid away.

His darker side.

The darker side that took a prostitute or a beggar, someone with no aspirations, each year and led them to a terrible place full of darkness and despair. There, he sacrificed their worthless lives so that his never had to end; his beauty and youth would never fade as he remained to see Albion change and thought of new ways to manipulate the land and people for his own gain. The darker side that hid his past away in a vault sealed deep within him, so deep that even he could barely hear the screams caused by what he had done anymore.

Of what the shadow court had done.

And now the little princess had gone and gotten herself involved with them. It wasn't that he was worried about her safety – as if Reaver would bother with something so trivial and time-consuming – more that when he had seen the shadow form in the corner of the room, his curiosity had grown to insatiable levels. And now that he had a taste of her, just the barest hint of flavour, he found that he wanted more.

"Silly little girl." He muttered, but even as he spoke the words he didn't believe them. He knew them not to be true anymore. She was nineteen now, battle weary, and even experienced within the art of sex – her reaction to his statement in the castle had provided more than enough proof.

She would make for an interesting conquest.

Reaver had decided as soon as he had seen her return, taken in the soiled yet pleasing appearance of her and heard the cocky remarks spill from her mouth that he was going to have her. It wouldn't be easy, but her reaction to him earlier had been so willing and uncontrollable that Reaver knew it was possible. And there was no doubt that he enjoyed a challenge.

He remembered her features as he took a long gulp of wine from his glass. The long tangled hair that just begged for hands to run through it. The wine was fruity against his taste buds as he thought of her eyes, the blue bursting with emotion as she had gazed angrily up at him...oh how he would love to see those eyes pleading with him, _begging _him for more. The plump, rosy lips that had been parted in surprise after he had kissed her. The wine left a cool trail down his throat as he swallowed and allowed his glazed over eyes to run lower down the memory of her, the soft curve of her small yet attractive breasts, her flat stomach and lower...

He smiled devilishly. Oh, he would make sure to remember this one.

But for now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Smith!" he called out, tapping hid foot impatiently when the servant didn't arrive. "Smith!"

Finally, the man appeared, his face flushed and out of breath. "Yes, Master Reaver?" he panted.

"Send the girls in now, I'm bored."

Smith smiled. "Yes, Master Reaver. Right away, Master Reaver."

"Oh," Reaver said as Smith turned back round with an expectant expression. He fingered the Dragonstomper gun hung from his belt and gave the servant a knowing look. "And _do_ try not to take _too_ long this time."

Smith's lips trembled as he attempted to raise them into another smile. "Y-yes, Master Reaver."

Reaver turned back to the window, allowing his thoughts to stray once again to the princess Elena. She _was _a feisty one and he was going to have so much fun with her. But then shrill voices and flirty giggles broke into his thoughts and he turned around with a sly smile.

"Hello ladies."

It was a good few hours before Reaver fell asleep that night.

**XXX**

Princess Elena barely managed to get any sleep. She was tossing and turning, fluffing out her pillows and rearranging her blankets yet nothing seemed comfy. Her eyes refused to stay closed as each time the lids shut it was the same image; those horrible, blood red eyes glaring out at her, the wild man running towards her...she briefly wondered if she would turn out like that. She sincerely hoped not, even death was a better option than going insane.

Her thoughts were tortured.

When she wasn't thinking about the shadow court, she was thinking about Reaver. Elena didn't know which was worse. Both were linked, but in what way she didn't know. Each time he filled her head, she could remember the feel of his lips upon her neck, upon her own...and then she would force herself to stop, knowing that Reaver was an unreliable user who had left her in a confused state and with a deeply buried need.

Elena absently traced the outline of the mark he had left on her neck, feeling the rough skin beneath her fingertips. That was the last time she would let him brand her. Elena was stronger than Reaver's charms...but apparently not strong enough to sleep. She sighed heavily and pushed herself into a sitting position.

What to do at night in the castle?

Suddenly her stomach rumbled; a loud sound in the quiet room. Looked like she was going to make a quick trip to the kitchens. The floor was cold against her feet as she stepped silently out of bed, but the shock it sent her was a relief from her hazy state. She padded silently down the dark hallways, her eyes adjusting quickly, and tried to avoid looking at any shadows for fear of the demon's return. Upon entering the kitchens, she began searching for some food – only to find some sliced bread and cheese already out on the counter.

"So you think you can disobey the Queen?"

Elena jumped at the voice, spinning round to see her sister sat at a table, a messily made, half-eaten sandwich placed in front of her. Her hair, instead of being it its usually elegant coil, trailed down her back in messy waves and there were slight shadows under her eyes. Elliya's words were stern but her expression was playful, Elena felt like she had a piece of her old sister back.

"Sorry," she said grinning "I just needed some alone time...to think, you know."

The Queen raised an eyebrow. "Alone time with Reaver?"

Elena's eyes narrowed as she felt a stab of embarrassment. "So you saw that then?"

Her sister nodded, fixing her with solemn eyes. "Reaver isn't someone to get involved with, Elena. He's unpredictable, you've heard about the way he planned to betray our mother to Lucien."

"I know." Elena smiled fondly at the memory of their mother sitting them down by the fire and telling them many stories of her adventures, pity her own hadn't turned out so good. "I'm not getting involved with him-"

"That's not what it looked like to me."

Elena huffed at her sister's persistent attitude. "I'm not going to let him..."

"Really? It looked like you were quite enjoying it."

Elena growled lowly. "Well you try getting kissed by him and not enjoying it!" she hadn't meant for her voice to be that loud, but it echoed around the kitchen. Elena was glad that Reaver wasn't there to hear them argue about him in such a way.

Elliya's eyed widened and she sat back in her chair, stunned. "Well, you certainly have grown up since you've been away."

There was a moments silence then, Elena with a wide-eyed doe look and Elliya holding a similar expression. They looked more like sisters than ever. Their eyes met and suddenly Elena found that she was unable to hold back a laugh. It barked out, following the echo of her words and was soon joined by the Queen's. They laughed for a good few minutes and by the tears running down their faces Elena guessed that it had been a while since they had let their emotions escape like that.

"I'm sorry, sister. It's just been a stressful return." Elena apologized.

Elliya's eyes suddenly turned sad and she gestured to the chair next to her, where Elena sat slowly. "Indeed. You must tell me all about your quest; why have you returned so soon? And where are all your men?"

Elena's face descended into a look of startling panic before settling on being sombre, her eyes wide once again. Her shoulders slumped as she let her head rest against the table, ignoring the crumbs that were sure to cling to her hair. She told her sister about the quest, about how it had all gone well until the bandit attack...then she lied. Elena lied, lied to the Queen of Albion and said that balverines had stormed against them; a huge amount so no man survived being ripped to shreds. When really it was the shadows that had done it, killing all but her...

Elliya must have read her alarmed expression as something else. "You look tired, sister. Get some sleep; I shall arrange a memorial service for them in the morning. Rest easy."

Elena, grateful for the excuse to escape the conversation, yawned widely, playing to the gallery. "I am feeling rather sleepy, yes. Thank you, Elliya."

The Queen smiled, one of her rare, realistic smiles that Elena was sure were only shown in the seclusion of night time. "Goodnight, Elena."

"Goodnight, my Queen."

**XXX**

Elena woke feeling angry. Uncontrollably so.

Her dreams had been plagued by shadowy figures and distant laughs that resembled a certain aristocrat's with a tall top hat and cane. Right now Elena detested that bloody top hat and cane, she felt like throwing them into a pit of lava...and then pushing in the man himself. Her chat with Elliya hadn't helped matters, only brought them to the forefront of her mind once again. She had bigger things to worry about.

"Screw everything." She growled to herself.

After bathing and dressing in a pair of simple black shorts and red blouse, Elena headed for the training room in the mood to spend hours pounding her anger out on the wooden dummies. She had her trusty sword in one hand, the blade jiggling dangerously with her walking motions, and had hooked her pistol into the waistband of her shorts. But just as she was nearing the training room, a certain top hat and cane swaggered into view.

Oh, _bloody hell_.

"What do you want Reaver?" her voice was low, dangerous and his eyebrows rose at the tone.

Raising his hands in a mock surrender gesture, Reaver replied "Don't think so highly of yourself, Rosie. I have merely just come from a rather pressing meeting with the Queen, when she had to cut it short to form some _memorial service _plans."

Elena felt a heat rising in her cheeks. The thought of her lost men sent her anger spiralling to new levels. "Oh, save your pathetic, manipulative words Reaver." She snapped "I am not in the mood to deal with your twisted tongue."

The mischievous glint returned to his eyes and he stepped closer, disregarding Elena's anger despite her nostrils flaring at his actions. "Well let's not talk then and I can show you just how _twisted _my tongue can be."

"Didn't I just say I wasn't in the mood for this?" Elena hissed from between clenched teeth, "You would do well to heed that warning, Reaver."

"Darling," he purred "I absolutely _love _angry sex. What do you say? Let off a bit of that..._steam_?"

Elena didn't think about her next action, otherwise she would have realised that it was a very stupid one. Within a second, her pistol was drawn from the waistband of her shorts and aimed straight at Reaver's head. However, it was only after she registered that her finger was curling round the trigger that she grasped that she was pointing her weapon at an ex-pirate king.

_Crap. _

She didn't let her uncertainty show though, gazing determinedly into Reaver's glinting, albeit slightly surprised eyes.

"Definitely feisty." He muttered through barely moving lips.

Then, in a move unexpectedly fast for a person of Reaver's stature and status, he swung his cane up and batted her pistol away with a single swing. It clattered to the ground a few meters away, useless. Elena couldn't contain her astonishment, gaping at her pistol and then at Reaver's cane as if she couldn't believe it. But when she turned back to Reaver she found herself facing the barrel of the legendary Dragonstomper that had no doubt blasted many lives to a quick and easy end.

It seemed she had been exposed to Reaver's renowned weapon and his notorious seductive side within the small span of a few days.

"Now, _Rosie_," he pressed the cold barrel under her chin, forcing her head up to meet his gaze, "Do you want to reconsider my question?"

Gazing into the face that was everything her mother had told her to stay away from, a plan formed in Elena's mind. A plan so simple and obvious that Elena nearly scoffed at the face that she had only just thought of it.

Reaver watched on with a bored expression that held the slightest hint of interest as the anger in Elena's eyes melted into something different, something akin to desire. Her lips relaxed and parted from being tightly pressed together, his eyes intently watching as her tongue sneaked out to wet them. When his eyes met hers again they were nearly black with desire. But Elena gave him no chance to act, threading her arms around his neck and yanking his head down until they were level.

"Now, _Reaver_," she breathed and he could taste her breath on the tip of his tongue, the scent of peaches teasing his taste buds. "What makes you think I would want to reconsider _that_?"

She pressed their lips together in a single, searing kiss. A kiss meant to tease.

Then, mirroring the spontaneity of his previous actions knocked the gun aside with one hand while the other grasped her sword and brought it up in a wide arc...slicing Reaver's hat in half.

Bloody top hat no more!

The sword cut through the expensive material easily. It fell to the floor with a surprisingly silent _swish_, landing delicately upon the ground.

Reaver's face was a mixture of astonishment, downright disbelief and his eyebrows were raised as if he was mildly impressed. Elena, forced out of her angry stupor, watched him with cautious eyes and a curved mouth; the sight of Reaver with half a top hat still clinging onto his head, undermining his usual immaculate appearance, was _hilarious_. She couldn't hold back a giggle.

His eyes darkened dangerously at the sound.

The Dragonstomper that she had so ruthlessly knocked away was raised once again to point straight at her forehead.

"Darling," Reaver's voice was dangerous like poison blended with an expensive wine, "As much as I enjoy the _thrill _of the chase and even a little fight, I do _not _take kindly to my possessions being destroyed."

Elena's mouth froze open as she felt a sudden coldness grasp at her ribs. _Oh no. Not now. Not yet._

"Reaver," her voice was little more than a desperate whisper.

He laughed threateningly, stepping closer so the barrel was once again pressed into her skin, the metal barely feeling cold anymore. "Rosie, don't get boring now. Don't go starting battles that you don't intend to finish." He chided.

She gasped as the coldness began to climb up her body, towards her chest. A trail of numbness was left in its wake, her skin rising to form goose bumps as the cold seized her. She knew what was happening. It was starting now. _The shadows were coming_.

She opened her mouth once again to beg for help but as she exhaled all that came out was a puff of white air, similar to the effects caused by freezing temperatures. The cold seized her chest, digging its claws in and a pained cry escaped her lips. Her body began to shudder and her breath came in small desperate pants.

Reaver finally seemed to catch on that she wasn't playing a game anymore and his eyes turned strangely alarmed. Why would _he _be worried about _her_?

But Elena found no more time to dwell on that thought as a long, shadowy form materialized in front of her. Deadly red eyes glowing out from a face encased in darkness and terror greeted her and a cold, spindly hand reached out to gently brush across her chest. With it came excruciating pain, the likes of which Elena had never experienced before. She couldn't hold back her screams, couldn't help the flailing movements of her body as it was helpless to try and escape the source of the hurt.

She registered two things before the darkness ebbing at the edges of her vision overtook her.

Reaver's horrified expression.

And the shadow's words as its chilling, raspy voice spoke out to wrap cursed words around her, choking her.

"_It has begun_."

**So, it has begun. And, never fear, it will all be explained in the next chapter :) so lemme know what cha think!**


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